Nineteen Years Later
by Fragilereality
Summary: For nineteen years George had lived with only one purpose, to bring back Fred.


Team: Pride of Portree

Position: Chaser 1

Prompt: Write about losing someone/thing on a windy day(s) OR winning someone/thing on a rainy night(s)

Optional prompts: 2 - Bitterness 10 - melancholy 14 - Castle on the Hill by Ed Sheeran

Word count: 2164

 **A/N: This is a slightly AU story although all of the characters other than George Weasley have remained true to the epilogue….**

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George followed the Hogwarts Express. It seemed like the right thing to do. He could have Apparated to the school, or made a Portkey, but he and Fred had always made their way to school together on the train.

He had even risked an appearance at the station. Disillusioned, he had lurked in a hidden corner of platform nine and three-quarters and watched as his brothers and sister waved off their children. It had been a touching scene and just for a moment the sight of Ginny surrounded by her own children had been enough to disperse the melancholy which had shrouded him for almost two decades.

Almost.

He had slipped away, taking to the air, high above the station where no Muggle would see him. He had hovered there, waiting for the train to begin its journey and once it began to move he had sped after it like a Seeker chasing the Snitch.

He had never flown so fast or so recklessly as he did then, following the scarlet locomotive as it streaked its way north. As time passed he began to recognise the topography. Familiar lanes wound their way into nothingness, lochs and rivers were almost black in the looming twilight, it was all so achingly, beautifully familiar. He felt a strange sense of homecoming. Of course, the Burrow would always be home. Although he hadn't been there for nineteen years he could still smell his mother's baking, could still feel the warm, worn grain of their old kitchen table beneath his fingertips, could still remember the fierce joy of flinging angry gnomes over the garden fence and feel the bitter pain of a leg broken trying to escape his brothers.

But Hogwarts held him in its own thrall. It was the place where he and Fred had grown up. It had been the site of his first kiss. It had been in the Gryffindor common room that he had drunk too many bottles of Butterbeer and in the boys dormitory where Fred had tenderly held back his hair as he had expelled the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

He had pictured this moment for years; the split second when the train would round its final bend and Hogwarts Castle would be revealed in all its glory, the sun setting behind it as the train drew into Hogsmeade station.

Of course he hadn't counted on the rain. It had begun as a cold drizzle somewhere around the Scottish border and quickly escalated to a full on downpour which quickly penetrated his travelling cloak, leaving him saturated and freezing cold. There was no sunset over the castle, instead the landscape was almost in darkness by the time he arrived. He did not let it bother him. The task he had set for himself would be more easily carried out under the encroaching cover of darkness.

He left the train, not even glancing behind for a further glimpse of his nephews and nieces. All being well he would see them again. Once he had achieved what he had come for he could go home. They both could.

He left his broom at the school gates and, after casting a Warming Charm, he waited for the carriages bearing the children to appear. The gates swung open to admit them and he was able to slip through undetected. He was assailed by memories. He hadn't expected it. It had been so long since he had last set foot on the school grounds, or even on British soil, that he had thought the memories would be forever laid to rest.

He had been wrong. He was surrounded. His brothers, like murky red headed spectres gamboled around him. Fred, urging him on to more daring deeds, Charlie, reprimanding him in his firm prefect's voice. Percy, looking disapprovingly at all of the others as Ron desperately tried to keep up, and even little Ginny, staring up at him with wide, admiring eyes. He stopped for a second and pressed his eyes closed. He had to remain focussed. He had a task to complete and the magic he planned to use was so dark, so elemental that it could not be invoked without the fiercest concentration and the deepest focus. Centred once more, he followed the carriages in the direction of the castle, undetected in the gloom.

It was easy to slip into the castle. Nearly twenty years of peace had caused the staff to become considerably less vigilant than they had been in George's day. Still hidden by his Disillusionment charm, he passed unnoticed through the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling, shattered during the battle of Hogwarts, had been restored to its former glory. Heavy clouds, saturated with rain, hung low over the heads of the uncaring children. George's lips curved upwards a little as he remembered the excitement of the arrival feast, and his smile broadened at the sight of Professor McGonagall in the Headmistresses chair and Professor Flitwick, still in his elevated seat. Other seats held newer, unfamiliar staff members and he did not linger to examine them.

It seemed as if the castle was welcoming him home; he did not have to wait for a single staircase and he soon found himself on the corridor outside the Room of Requirement. He fell to his knees on the flagstoned floor. There was nothing unusual to see in the dimly lit corridor but to someone like George, someone who knew death, its very essence permeated the surroundings. He could feel his brother's demise like a lead weight pressing on his chest.

Nineteen years, he reminded himself. It had taken him nineteen years to reach this point. Nineteen years segregated away from his family, away from anyone who exhibited any sort of humanity. Since Fred's death George had lived only to restore him. It had been hard at first to move beyond his feelings of loss, and the overwhelming unfairness of what had happened. He couldn't help but resent his friends and family. Why was he the one to suffer the greatest loss? No matter how his parents or his siblings grieved nothing could compare to his pain. For nineteen years he had lived as one half of a whole. He sometimes wondered if he were no more than Fred's Horcrux, a tiny shred of soul trapped in an otherwise empty body. He had sought out the darkest of wizards, the strongest of necromancers. He had travelled the world, steeped in bitterness and loss, immersing himself in Dark magic. Willing to do anything and everything it took in order to achieve his goal; to bring back his brother.

Somewhere along the way he knew he had changed. A long time ago the face he saw in the mirror had ceased to be Fred's — now he couldn't bear to look at it. Time and exposure to Dark magic had taken its toll on him; he looked even older than his father, but it no longer mattered. Today he would turn back the clock, he would undo the wrongs which had been done nineteen years previously. He would bring back his other half and the world would once more be righted on its axis.

He drew his wand and began to inscribe an array of protective runes on the flagstoned floor. They glowed briefly, red on grey, before fading into the stonework. Finally, he stepped into their protective circle and uttered his final incantation.

He was gripped by a strange sensation, similar to that of Apparition; the world blurred around him and he stumbled his landing, falling hard on his knees. He slowly climbed to his feet, looking around in confusion. He had not known what to expect. His knowledge of necromancy far exceeded his practical experience; indeed few of the wizards he had encountered had any practical experience, and those who had succeeded had brought forth zombie-like creatures rather than truly bringing back their loved ones. Nonetheless, he had not expected to find himself back in King's Cross Station. He looked down accusingly at his wand; had it somehow malfunctioned?

His attention was drawn by the sound of a guard's whistle. A familiar crimson train had pulled in at the nearby platform. Hundreds of passengers were disembarking from it, reaching back inside to pull down trunks and suitcases before hurrying toward the still closed ticket barrier. George approached the barrier, amazed and delighted to see that the first person to reach it was Remus Lupin.

"George?" Lupin's gentle face was alight with wonder. "Did you do this?"

George could only nod. "Yes, I suppose I did."

"Dora!" Lupin called over his shoulder and George felt a surge of pure joy as the pink haired Metamorphmagus joined her husband. "It's George—" Lupin wrapped an arm around his wife's waist. "Can you let us through, George? We must find Teddy."

"Of course." George looked at the ticket barrier for a moment; what had he seen the Muggles do a thousand times before? He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and transfigured it into an orange and yellow striped ticket which he fed into the barrier. As he did so he felt a flicker of apprehension, a strange tingling in the back of his neck that told him he had done something wrong. But it was too late, the ticket had disappeared from his fingers and the plastic gates flew open. Tonks and Lupin rushed through.

"Thank you George, thank you." Tonks pressed her lips against his cheek before Lupin pulled her away into the bustle of the station.

George slipped through the barrier, his fingers pressed against his cheek where Tonks had kissed him. People were streaming past him now, making their way to the open barrier. He recognised Colin Creevey, still clutching his camera, but he didn't stop to speak. He desperately searched the group. Fear curled in his belly as Severus Snape appeared before him.

"What have you done, idiot boy?" Snape grabbed him by his collar, almost lifting George off the platform.

"I...I have to find Fred," he spluttered.

"All this?" Snape's voice was filled with disgust. "All this for your equally imbecilic brother." He dropped George and strode away, passing through the gate and heading off in the same direction as Tonks and Lupin.

Suddenly the hubbub died away. Those making their way toward the gate drew to one side in shocked silence and George did the same as the diminutive figure of Bellatrix Lestrange, wild haired and mad eyed as ever, picked her way through the crowd, her wand brandished as if to deter anyone from stopping her. She hummed quietly to herself as she disappeared through the gate. George's hand flew to his mouth. If Bellatrix were here then…

A strange chill rent the air and the crowd drew back even further. It was so quiet that even the sound of Voldemort's bare feet on the marble platform sounded loud. His long, dark robes brushed the ground as he slowly made his way toward the gate. He paused and turned his head, his red eyes seeking out George's before he bent his head in recognition. Then, in a flurry of black robes, he was gone.

The crowd gradually came back to life, although they were less exuberant than they had previously been. They hurried once more toward the barrier, each one eager to pass through the gate. George resumed his search, standing on tiptoes, desperately craning his neck until he saw a familiar shock of red hair.

"Fred."

"George."

They embraced on the near empty platform. George couldn't stop staring, it was like having his reflection restored. Fred was frowning.

"You got old."

George touched his lined face. "I suppose I did. It takes a while to learn how to bring people back from the dead."

"Yes, about that—" Fred looked at the tail end of the departing crowd which streamed out into Muggle London "— is that what you really meant to do?"

George shook his head. "No, I really only came for you. The rest were...an unfortunate side effect."

Fred pursed his lips. "You do realise you just started the next war, right?"

"I suppose." George looked away. "Mum's going to kill me."

"Nah." Fred clapped a supportive hand on his brother's back. "She'll let you off with a warning since you brought me back." He glanced behind him at the train. "You know we could both just get back on the train, the afterlife isn't so bad."

"Is that what you want?" George stared at his brother, who shrugged again.

"Not really, I'm up for another fight, as long as you realise it's your turn to die this time."

"Fair enough." George set off towards the gate. "As long as you bring me back."

The two of them stepped through the ticket barrier together neither sparing more than a glance for the red train as it drew out of the station. They linked arms and made their way out onto the rain drenched and darkened streets. George looked contentedly across at his Fred's silhouette. He had won back his brother. Perhaps the cost was a little higher than he might have hoped, but with Fred at his side once more there was nothing in the world that could truly frighten him.

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 **A/N 2. Many of George's feelings regarding his return to Hogwarts were inspired by my optional prompt Castle on the Hill by Ed Sheeran, a song I can't help but love. The lyrics are below.**

When I was six years old I broke my leg  
I was running from my brother and his friends  
And tasted the sweet perfume of the mountain grass I rolled down  
I was younger then, take me back to when I

Found my heart and broke it here  
Made friends and lost them through the years  
And I've not seen the roaring fields in so long, I know I've grown  
But I can't wait to go home

I'm on my way  
Driving at ninety down those country lanes  
Singing to "Tiny Dancer"  
And I miss the way you make me feel, and it's real  
We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill

Fifteen years old and smoking hand-rolled cigarettes  
Running from the law through the backfields and getting drunk with my friends  
Had my first kiss on a Friday night, I don't reckon that I did it right  
But I was younger then, take me back to when

We found weekend jobs, when we got paid  
We'd buy cheap spirits and drink them straight  
Me and my friends have not thrown up in so long, oh how we've grown  
But I can't wait to go home

I'm on my way  
Driving at ninety down those country lanes  
Singing to "Tiny Dancer"  
And I miss the way you make me feel, and it's real  
We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill  
Over the castle on the hill  
Over the castle on the hill

One friend left to sell clothes  
One works down by the coast  
One had two kids but lives alone  
One's brother overdosed  
One's already on his second wife  
One's just barely getting by  
But these people raised me and I can't wait to go home

And I'm on my way, I still remember  
This old country lanes  
When we did not know the answers  
And I miss the way you make me feel, it's real  
We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill  
Over the castle on the hill  
Over the castle on the hill


End file.
